Birthright
by The Smiling Shadow
Summary: Before Jack faces Atlas he seeks out help through out Rapture from Sander Cohen to Tenebaum. He has to fight the monster Fontaine has become but he doesn't have to do it alone. A slight revision of the events of the first game.
1. Sander Cohen Lives

He'd fought his way through the entire forgotten and familiar city. He'd learned who he was and what he was. He had violated his own genetics countless times and he held onto the blue-glowing syringes because he knew he wouldn't be able to do it without them . He knew he wouldn't be able to finish this fight. It was time to kill Fontaine, avenge his father, take back the city, and leave it at the bottom of the ocean to rot. It was time to return to the surface where he could start again. He was alive now, more than he had ever been, his thoughts were electric and countless. Just as one came to mind another surfaced. That's how he knew they were his own. He thought to himself, this is how normal people think, they think a thousand thoughts a second and they manage to make sense of it, so calm down, and take it slow if you must. Tenebaum was hidden with the girls, they were safe and waiting. It was nearly over, he knew that, it had to end now or it'd never end. And he kept thinking, I've taken down this whole city, there's just a little further to go.

But he knew, even then, he didn't have to do this alone.

Fort Frolic smelled like perfume wherever you went. Floral, sweet, almost like a sad reminder of the glory this city had once, briefly, had. It was faint now, like it was coming off the pillow some girl you loved for a night but can't even remember slept on. Yes, Fort Frolic smelled like perfume, the lonely remnant of something pure and good and fun. The Bathysphere opened and immediately that smell hit him. He felt at once uneasy returning there.

Cautiously he took his first steps, the ever-dancing "statues" welcoming him. Almost immediately a Spider Slicer leapt down from the ceiling, landing on the floor like a graceful ballerina. That's mostly because she had once_ been _a ballerina. His hands lit on fire and he stood, prepared. But the ballerina, with a bunny mask stopped. She dropped her hooks and let out an innocent squeal.

"Oh, thank God, it's you!"

He had almost forgotten that the Splicers, underneath their masks and their twisted flesh, were people. The ballerina's name was Michelle. She was twenty-three, and a scout in Sander Cohen's "Rapture's Troupe of Many Talents." Sander Cohen's own personal army comprised of artists, musicians and writers. She had short, brown hair that was singed at its ends. Her white bunny mask was uniquely clean and behind it he could see blue eyes, but that was all. She held his hand gently, pulling him through the maze of stairs, theaters, back stages, clubs, and ballrooms. Fort Frolic was darker than before, the lights were off, it was closed for business, it seemed.

"He's been so distraught since you left." Michelle explains. "He's shut down all our productions."

She takes him deeper into Fort Frolic than he knew it went.

"I guess you're feeling like Alice now." She laughs. "Following the white rabbit down the rabbit hole."

He grew nervous suddenly, realizing he hadn't been paying attention and wouldn't know where to go if he suddenly had to escape.

Finally they came to the end. She opened a door labeled "Back Stage, Employees Only." The back stage was enormous to say the least, it was for their grandest theater where Sander's own productions had taken place. This was a theater built for Rapture's Greatest Entertainment, thus it boasted to be the biggest theater in the world. The back stage was beautiful and ornate, almost decadent. Only the best, for Rapture's best, he supposed. Of course Sander Cohen and Andrew Ryan couldn't let a back stage be simple, nothing about Rapture was simple. And so the back stage was like a cathedral built for the performer. It was here Sander's army now resided and slept and ate together. The make up areas had been cleared, there were dining tables there, and beds where the dancers and ballerinas prepared and practiced. The cathedral was now home.

There must have been fifty, maybe even more Splicers there. When she opened the door they all paused and stopped to look at him. After a moment of fear, they saw it was him, and they all welcomed him as warmly as Michelle had. Michelle tugged at his hand.

"He's this way."

She took him up the stairs and towards the main stage, where he could suddenly hear the sound of a grand piano. A lonely spot light lit Sander at the piano's bench, playing something slow and sad. Michelle stopped to allow Sander to finish the piece and applauded as he did. Sander forces a smile and bows towards Michelle.

"Thank you, dear Angel." He tells her.

"Sander, I've brought someone here to see you!"

She pulls him out of the darkness and from behind the curtains and Sander Cohen's face lights up. He holds out his arms ready to embrace Jack, he takes a step and vanishes in a red cloud, only to appear right in front of Jack, grabbing him.

"Oh, my Little Moth has returned home! I was so worried about you, out there by your lonesome! I feared the worst, you have no idea."

"This means we can start the productions, again, right Sander? I have my dance recital tomorrow!"

"Yes, my Angel, of course! You should see Michelle tomorrow night, she's treating us to 'Swan Lake!' Oh, Michelle, give us a little taste!"

He claps his gloved hands and she leaps to the center stage. He claps a rhythm and hums the songs of _Swan Lake_ as she dances her heart out.

"Sander, please." Jack stops him. "I need to speak with you."

"Yes, my Moth, you can say anything to me." He says as Sander continues to clap away.

"I need to speak to you privately."

Sander stops. Michelle understands. She begins to walk away, but turns back and grabs Jack's hand.

"It's so nice to have you back." She tells him before running off.

"She's a good kid." Sander remarks. "She ran away from home to pursue ballet. When we met she was supporting herself on three jobs and desperately trying to get into a troupe. I told her that night, 'my Angel, you'll never have to work another day in your life, all you have to do is dance, dance for me.'" Sander smiles, he walks off towards the piano bench, dancing to _Swan Lake _on his own. "She was only sixteen. She's been with me ever since. You have to reward dedication like that. A true love for one's art."

"Sander…"

Sander sits back on the bench and begins tapping at the keys, quietly playing.

"It was like a light went out when you left." He tells Jack. "I thought I couldn't bear it, not again, not so soon. Not even the Masterpiece could warm my heart!"

"Andrew Ryan is dead."

Sander misses a key and pauses. He recovers, and gently continues.

"I see." Sander says.

"Fontaine is planning something terrible. He's got most of the city's Adam, and I think he's planning to use all of it on himself."

"Well, that just sounds like an awful idea."

"I'm going to go to try to stop him."

Again Sander misses a key.

"So you came only to say goodbye? Is that it? You come, to see me at my lowest, and mock me, and _leave!" _

Sander bangs his fingers against the keys, staring at Jack with all the fury in the world.

"What did I do wrong, Little Moth? After everything I did for you, what more could I have done!"

"Sander, stop it." Jack tries.

"It was never going to be enough, was it!"

Sander rises, his hands becoming engulfed in fire. Jack holds up his arms and remains calm. He has to remain calm.

"Sander. You have no idea how difficult it was for me to leave you." Jack tries. "I've come back because I need your help. I'm going to stop Fontaine, but I can't do it by myself."

"You? You want me to help you?"

"We can end this now, Sander. We can return to the Surface. You can go back Broadway, or go to Hollywood."

He hopes this would bring Sander Cohen comfort, but suddenly Sander shrinks. Sander holds himself, and puts his hands to his mouth, looking incredibly sad.

"Oh. No. I couldn't do that."

"Why not!" Jack yells.

Sander looks up at him, suddenly seeming so fragile. He looks at Jack with fear and shame. He shakes his head, he hates that he must say this.

"Well, you see…" Sander tries to find the words. "I'm really quite insane. I mean. My art is made of dead people…"

Sander turns to the audience, scattered with his statues, his bleeding, dead statues. He looks at them, forever applauding and watching the performance, and he can't help but laugh.

"Heh. Heheheh." He puts his fist to his lips, stopping himself. "Ahem." He swallows hard, trying desperately not to laugh any further.

Sander admits his insanity and it nearly breaks him in two. He can't bring himself to look at Jack, who is exhausted.

"Sander, it's show business, no one's going to notice!"

"HAH!" Sander laughs. "Oh, Little Moth, you always know just what to say to me to make me feel better."

Sander forces a smile, he still holds himself in place, his arms wrapped around himself. But now he at least laughs beneath his breath. He thinks briefly of the idea, could he, would he ever return to the surface? But he feels the familiar throbbing in his head, a headache brought on by Adam deprivation, and he looks again to those bleeding statues and he knows in his heart there is no place for him on the surface anymore.

"But you ask too much of me." Sander sighs. "It's suicide. And…if I am gone who will look after the Troupe? What will happen to Michelle and the others? Who will run the theater? Who will document what's happened here, what will happen here? It's always Ryan and Fontaine, blah, blah, blah! Don't bother yourself with it, you don't have to go! You could stay here! Stay with us. Stay with me."

Sander reaches for Jack's hand, but he steps away. That alone is answer enough. Jack prepares for Sander to become enraged, to fight him. But Sander stops, saddened, rejected again. He sways to the piano bench, sitting down with a loud thud.

"I understand." Sander says. "It's…difficult here. You know, you're a story, we're all stories in the end. The main characters in our own lives. It's up to you how people will remember you. I never intended my story to be so terrible, I mean, a horror of all things… I never intended for it to be that way, it just happened. I can't help it now, just look at this place…"

Jack walks up to him.

"A man chooses, Sander. He doesn't hide behind excuses, or his fears, or other people. He chooses and then he does. My father taught me that."

"Heh. Lovely. I'd love to see your father down here."

"You have."

To this, Sander gazes up at him, like he's seeing Jack for the first time.

"You told me that you loved my father once. Then if you won't fight for me, fight for him. For his memory, for what he intended this place to be, what he wanted to give to you and everyone else."

Yes, he could see it now, in the eyes and the face.

Jack waits, but Sander says nothing more. He looks down and knows that he must face Fontaine alone. He had no other allies, other than Tenebaum and the girls. He buried his fear deep inside him, and he turned away from Sander, knowing Sander wouldn't try to stop him.

Sander suddenly stands.

"Jack Ryan." Sander whispers.

Jack is behind the curtain, heading down the stairs. Sander must yell now.

"That has a nice ring to it! HAH! Hahahaha!"

It was impossible, but there he was, the son of Andrew Ryan.

You could still hear Sander's laughter back stage. Jack didn't even look at Michelle or the others as he left. He didn't need them, he'd find his own way out. They watched him go, not fully understanding why this was all so tragic.

He took his lonely walk to the Bathysphere, passed the dead statues and that terrible perfume smell.

"Brigid." He spoke into his radio.

"Jack! I can hear you now."

"Sander's a no-show. I'm on my way home."

A long silence.

"I want…to see you before Fontaine. See you and the girls."

"We'll be waiting." She said.

He entered the Bathysphere and didn't even notice Michelle standing at the entrance, watching him go.

/ / / / /

More to come.


	2. My Sisters

The Bathysphere rose into Olympus Heights, where homes were torn and destroyed. He had wandered here not long ago, searching for a genetic cure to his own manufactured mind. He was made to be a slave, he hadn't know that that dull feeling he had felt his entire life was forced upon him. His Father was right, he was made to sleep through life until told what to do. But the brain washing was gone, he'd found the cure buried deep beneath all this debris, forgotten and safe. Here he saw the state of Rapture's most sacred and Rapture's most hated, the rich that were invited to this city and the poor that had built it. The ghosts in the ADAM danced and screamed in the streets. It wasn't just the public parts of Rapture, it was even in the homes, even in the homes war raged on.

How does something so selfless become so twisted?

The air smelled like rotten and burning flesh. That terrible smell had become so familiar to him in the last few days, where he fought and slept in the city's remnants, like a maggot sleeps in a dead body.

He made his way down the quiet street, he saw Sophia waving the all-clear to him. Sophia was ten-years-old, one of the oldest of the Little Sisters that Brigid Tenebaum had rescued. She had black hair and big brown eyes. She fancied herself a tough girl and liked being the oldest of all of Tenebaum's girls. He headed towards her, but then the ground shook in that familiar way. He knew what it was before he ever saw it coming. A Big Daddy, a Bouncer, grabbed his head in its massive hand and flung him across the road. It screamed and held up its spinning drill towards Jack, a warning stance.

"NO!" Sophia screamed.

She crawled out of her hiding space and ran for the Bouncer. The Bouncer saw her coming and put its hand in front of her, keeping her away from Jack. He was protecting her.

"No, Mr. Bubbles!" Sophia tried again.

She ran in front of the colossus, unafraid and held up her hands.

"Don't, stop it!"

The Bouncer looked up at Jack, screaming once more. Sophia finally jumped and grabbed the Bouncer's grill over its face. The Bouncer held her off the ground for a moment before lowering its head to allow her back onto the ground. She didn't let go of his grill.

"Mr. Bubbles, you have to stop. That man is my friend."

The Bouncer whined a small and pitiful whine. It held its head down and slacked it shoulders. Jack rose to his feet and couldn't help but think the poor thing was ashamed. The Bouncer looked up at Sophia and held out his hand for her to take. He whined more when she at first refused, saddened, lonely. Jack thought for a second was this Bouncer Sophia's Big Daddy? Could the Big Daddies tell which Little Sister was theirs? Did it matter? Did it matter to them at all or did they simply not want to be alone? Sophia finally put her hand in the Bouncers, who made a louder noise, something like a declaration, or a cheer.

Sophia pulled at the Bouncer now, leading him to Jack.

"This is Jack, Mr. Bubbles. He's our friend." Sophia gestured to Jack.

The Bouncer made another noise, Sophia laughed.

"He's sorry." She explained.

Jack forced a smile and rubbed the back of his head. He then nodded at the Bouncer, feeling like a fool for expecting it to nod back.

"Come on." Sophia said.

She walked off, Jack followed. The Bouncer stood for a moment or two watching the pair go. Then, abruptly, it began to follow.

"Hey!" Jack said.

"No, Mr. Bubbles, you have to stay here!" Sophia ran up to him. "You stay here!"

The Bouncer didn't seem to understand.

"Jack and I have to go down there, you stay here!"

He must've understood that part because he made a loud roaring sound and held out his hand to Sophia.

"Mr. Bubbles…" Sophia tried. "You don't understand, you're too big and loud, you'll draw attention. We're hiding."

The Bouncer again offered his hand to her, and held up his drill. Without words he told her he would protect her from whatever attention they drew. Sophia looked to Jack, he held his hand up and it lit on fire. She shook her head at him, angry he'd even suggest it. The Bouncer made another one of its sad, lonely rumbles and Sophia finally took his hand.

"You can come, but you have to be quiet." She told the Bouncer.

"Brigid's not going to let it stay, she hates those things." Jack protested.

"She afraid of them, that's why she hates them. But you know what, I don't care. I know they're good. They're like us."

"Like us?"

"Yeah, you and me."

He didn't really see how. Sophia shook her head, disapprovingly at him.

"We were made, and then they made us do things, and think things. They made us different. It's not fair that we're going to let Mr. Bubbles die out here by himself just because he got put into a big suit rather than looking normal like you and me."

Jack suddenly became uncomfortable. He wasn't like a Big Daddy. Was he? He turned to the Bouncer beside him, being pulled along by Sophia. After a moment, it turned it's head and looked at him.

"Mmmmmrrrrr?" It seemed to ask.

Now, that was disturbing.

They came to the Safe House quickly, much to Jack's relief. Sophia slipped beneath the doorway and opened up the doors for them. The Bouncer made a surprised sound, he knew there were many, many Little Sisters inside.

"Shhh!" Sophia ran up to the Bouncer. "Mr. Bubbles, shut up!"

It silenced itself but it was too late. Brigid Tenebaum stormed out.

"What in God's name is that _thing _doing here!" She cried.

"It followed Sophia home." Jack explained.

"Sophia!"

"Mama, please! He's not going to hurt anyone, and he wouldn't go away!" Sophia cried.

"I will not have that monster in here!"

"He's not a monster!" Sophia screamed.

By then the Bouncer was making a mumbling noise, another roar, perhaps he was trying to join the argument. Jack watched the Bouncer carefully, Sophia stood in front of it and it knelt down to be closer to her, resting on its drill.

"Get away from it, right now, Sophia!" Tenebaum commanded.

"No, if he's a monster, then I'm a monster too! And if you're going to get rid of him, you'll have to get rid of me too!" Sophia suddenly climbed onto the Bouncer's arm.

Tenebaum was struck back. She looked to Jack for help but he shook his head at her.

"It's like us." Jack said. "There's a man underneath all that."

"Jack, you have no idea what those things go through to make sure there is no such man."

"Brigid, look at it."

It was holding Sophia now, as she in turn, held onto his arm. It crossed her with its drill, holding the little girl to its chest. But he did not harm her, he could crush skulls with that hand but he knew how to hold her just right. He knew he had to be gentle with her.

"It's not doing that because of pheromones or whatever. It loves her." Jack told her.

Tenebaum stared at the Bouncer and Sophia, conflicted.

The other girls had heard the commotion outside. They knew that noise very well. Slowly they crept to do the doorway and saw him. He looked up and saw them too.

"Mr. Bubbles!" The girls screamed.

Joyous, happy, not an ounce of fear, several girls ran out of that safe house and into the arms of the Big Daddy. The Bouncer screamed in joy, holding out his arms, welcoming the girls.

"Girls, no!" Tenebaum cried. "Inside, inside now!"

"Only if Mr. Bubbles can stay!" Sophia demanded.

"Fine, fine, just go inside and keep that thing quiet!"

The girls cheered and the Bouncer cheered as well. The girls hushed him and he grew quiet as they led him inside. Tenebaum eyed Jack as it crept into her home. She shook her head at Jack.

"You are not like those things." She told him.

"I'm not so certain."

The girls led the Bouncer to the largest living room they had, more and more joined them at welcoming their common friend. These girls were cured, they were free of the effects of ADAM and its parasitic slugs. They weren't producing out pheromones or able to perceive any coming from the Bouncer. But when they saw him their faces lit up. In all their lives there had been nothing to rely on. Not even the broken memories of their parents could bring them comfort, because in the end even their parents gave them up or couldn't protect them. But all of them, all of them had a Protector, and their Big Daddy was the only creature in all those dark years of the war that had loved them and protected them. And no matter what Tenebaum did, she couldn't understand that love enough to destroy it. So when the girls heard that familiar moaning and felt the ground tremble they were filled with love and joy.

Mr. Bubbles had come home.

The Big Daddy seemed pretty happy as well, he was surrounded by an entire room full of Little Sisters and it seemed he didn't even know what to do. He kept making a loud, happy noise, and the girls kept having to hush him. He held up his arms and lowered his drill. The girls began to climb on top of him and hug him. He remained still and moaned quietly, content.

"Be careful, girls." Tenebaum commanded.

"He's not going to hurt us." The girls told her.

"He won't hurt you either." The girls said.

"He's our friend." The girls said.

Jack watched the girls play with the Bouncer. They laughed as he would grab them off the top of his head and put them back on the floor. They brought him blocks and dolls. They brought crayons and began drawing on the metal armor of his suit. They drew hearts on his armor. They drew themselves and him on the ground. All through out, the Bouncer was gentle and kind. He listened when they spoke to him. He followed when they asked. He held their hand when they needed it. Jack watched them play and he suddenly felt very lonely.

Even the Big Daddy had more of a family than he did.

"Jack."

He looked up, Brigid stood down the hallway. He followed her to a large room he had not seen before. She stepped inside and he suddenly knew he'd been there before. The walls were not pink or covered in flowered wallpaper like the rooms for the girls. Everything had a layer of dust over it and it seemed like it'd been years since the room had been opened. Almost without thinking he wandered to the center of the floor where toy army soldiers, planes and robots sat. He bent down and grabbed the toy plane. And he knew, he just knew.

"This was mine." He said.

"Yes. Your favorite." She says.

He looks at her, and cautiously she backs away.

"This is where you grew up." She tells him. "You were here for two years, until you grew into the man you are now. Then you were moved for more…mental conditioning."

He looks around, the bed was large enough for a grown man. A chill went down his spine. A little boy's room with a bed for a grown man. He must've looked like a teenager, still playing with blocks in this room. He still held the aluminum plane in his hands, familiar to its touch, its cold and smooth feel. He could remember the sound it made even as he held it, the creaking of small metal parts. Nostalgia, his father called it, this feeling was nostalgia.

"You were here. With me. For those two years." She said. "I'm so sorry."

He stood at the center of what was once his room. He suddenly felt very small and frightened. He held onto the toy plane, holding it to his chest. Everything looked just as he remembered it.

"It feels like a dream." He tells her. "It feels like what I think a dream feels like." He corrects himself. "It's all fake isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was in New York two weeks ago. I was at home. I was…in my apartment, I worked at car repair shop, I wrote letters to my Mother."

"Until they took you from me, you called me Mother."

He stares up at her, gripping onto the wings of his tin airplane.

"But they made you forget that. They taught you only what you needed to know."

"But is it real?"

"What?"

"What I do know." He looks at her. "I've never seen Christmas, have I? Not a real one. But I can see the tree in my living room, I can remember waiting up all night. What about a date? I remember taking this girl…from school, in my car, and we went to see a movie, we went on a date, is that what you really do on dates? We kissed, is that how you really kiss someone? Are those things really how I know them to be? Is any of this really here right now?"

She looks at him with deep sorrow.

"You had first Christmas here. We had a tree where the girls are now. You opened presents. You were one-year-old and you looked like you were thirteen."

He looks to the ground. He can't stand this room anymore.

"You're only three or four, aren't you?"

They look up to see Sophia standing in the door, all in her bloody and torn dress, with a smile on her face and those big brown eyes.

"You know what that means?" She smiled.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm ten. I'm older than you." She laughed. "I'm like your big sister."

"Yeah. I guess so."

He's loading up the machine gun for the last time, counting the remaining ammo in his pack. It's heavy on his shoulder now, that's good. He counts the Eve in his jacket, taking one out and putting it to his wrist. Just a little more, a little more and he won't have to touch the stuff again.

"How much do you need to take before you get addicted?" Jack asks her.

"We've been using Plasmids on you since before you were born. You are already addicted."

He laughs at himself.

"Am I gonna keep aging like this?" He asks her.

"No. You were designed to reach adulthood and slow down to normal speed."

"So. I could have a life after all of this."

She's watching him count the bullets in his pack.

"Something to look forward to." He smiles to himself.

"Jack…"

"We've waited long enough. There's no one else left to ask. You have to stay here with the girls."

"That much ADAM inside someone…" She shakes her head.

"Don't believe in your golden boy?"

She looks at him, now's not the time for joking, but he just smiles at her.

"I can at least hurt him." He says. "I can give everyone else a fighting chance."

"I will take the girls to the bathysphere. We will wait for you."

"Don't. Once you get there, just go." He looks at her. "You can't wait for me, you can't stay here any longer than you have to with them. The girls can't survive out there."

He loads up his pistol for the last time.

"They're all I've got, aren't they?" Jack asks her. "I saved them, I won't let you put them in danger because of me."

He loads up the crossbow for the last time.

"We manufactured your memories. We designed your DNA. But your compassion and your generosity, that is all from you, Jack. We didn't put that in you. We could never have known how to do that."

He feels electricity runs through his veins, then fire, and ice, then the bugs growing and living in his arm. One last time.

He looks at her, and he would be upset if she didn't look so sad.

"It's time." He tells her.

Time to face Fontaine.

She holds out her arms and embraces him.

"We could've never known how brave you'd be."

/ / / / /

More to come.


	3. Family

"I remember when me and the Kraut put you in that sub. You were no more than two. You were my ace in the hole, but you were also the closest thing I ever had to a son. And that's why this hurts. Betrayal, kid. Life ain't strictly business."

The elevator shook and he could hear himself breathing. He could see Rapture below him through the glass walls. From the outside his father's city still seemed beautiful, operational. He thought briefly of his father, beaten and bloody with a golf club sticking out of his skull. He thought of his father's dream, a madman's dream of a city without law at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. It seemed so impossible and yet, here it was. It seemed impossible to shoot fire from your hands or to be a grown man of only four years of age. And yet, here it was.

He was the last remnant of his father, and like all things his father made, he was going to die in Rapture.

He wasn't even surprised by what he saw when he got to the top. He hated that he wasn't even surprised. But after the last few days, the twisted men and women he'd seen, the madness and the blood, he wasn't the least bit surprised when he saw Fontaine. A giant now, with black metal skin, like one of the sculptures that were holding up the city of Rapture he saw when he first entered this city. An inhuman human being, a behemoth, a monster. A terrible man with terrible power, twisted even more than his own DNA. He was spread over a cross, his own medical table where he was constructed.

He didn't even hesitate.

Jack Ryan ran up to Atlas and stabbed him in the chest with a Little Sister's needle and he sucked the ADAM right out of him. Fontaine, Atlas, screamed and back handed Jack to the distant floor below. Atlas leapt to the ground and stood right above him.

"Come and get it, kid!"

Jack shot him in the face with his shotgun. All it did was give Atlas a bleeding noise.

Atlas swung back, gripping his face. Jack rose to his feet, loading up the shotgun with explosive bucks. He fired but the shots did no good. They tore at Atlas' skin, revealing hot molten flesh.

"Heh, tickles." Atlas laughed.

Atlas body lit on fire, his black skin now melted over fire just beneath its surface. His hands were engulfed in flame and he shot fireballs right at Jack. He dodged, feeling the heat glide right past him. His veins grew cold and he shot ice into Atlas's face. Atlas froze for only a moment, his molten skin melted the ice. Jack shook his head, great.

Electricity. One two punch. He fired blue electrical bolts at Atlas who fought back, pushing forward through the natural stunned reaction. He took his massive hands and plunged them into the ground acting like a lightning rod, redirecting the electrical current into the floor. Jack took the opportunity, he held up his machine gun and fired a whole round.

No good, some of the bullets didn't even pierce his skin, and the ones that did melted.

One more time, he made ice blocks out of his hands and ran up to Atlas, grabbing him by the shoulders, spreading the ice coming out of his blood onto Atlas' face and neck. Then he took out a grenade and stuck it in Atlas' face. He ran for cover but Atlas merely teleported out of the ice and in front of him.

Atlas kicks him to the floor and puts his foot over Jack's chest. Jack grabs his ankles with fire and ice but it's no good. Atlas just smiles.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this kid, I really am. You were like a son to me." Atlas says in his distorted voice.

"You're not my father." Jack says to himself.

"Yeah. I guess so. Not even I could mess up as bad as your real Daddy."

Atlas lifts his massive foot, ready to squash Jack like a bug, but then Jack feels a warm cloud of blood form around him. Arms grab his ribs and Sander Cohen appears before him.

"Boo." Sander says.

They form into nothing again, a cloud of blood, reappearing a hundred feet across the room. Jack's on his knees and Sander's on his feet, bowing to the thing called Atlas. Ever the performer, he's bowing.

"Sander."

Sander smiles down at Jack. His suit is finely pressed and cleaned, his gloves are white and pristine, lacking old blood stains. He tears off his black rabbit's mask, revealing a beautiful white face caked in white make up, red lips and black eyes.

"Did you expect nothing less than a last minute rescue?" Sander grins.

"Cohen!" Atlas screams. "You god damn old fruit!"

"Yes, a wool-dyed psychopath, eh, Fontaine? Well, well, well looks like the kettle's calling the pot black. All right, players!"

Suddenly the room filled with red smoke, Sander Cohen's personal army, the cavalry had arrived. Each Houdini Splicer carried with them a Spider Slicer as they teleported into Atlas' headquarters. The Houdinis fell to the floor like graceful dancers and the Spiders leapt up to the ceiling where they were more at home than the floor. The hooks clanged against the concrete and Atlas was screaming.

"Just like we practiced!" Sander Cohen called.

"Sander." Jack stood. "How?"

"That Tenebaum woman called me. Did you know she was a fan of mine?"

"Really?" Jack smiled.

"She saw _Why Even Ask?_ Four times! Four! She's a really lovely lady once we got to talking! She pointed out to me that I had a responsibility to you."

"To me?"

"I couldn't stand by and let anyone else hurt my Little Moth, now could I?"

The Spider slicers got in position right above Atlas, while the Houdinis on the ground kept him cornered. Suddenly a red cloud appeared above him and wet concrete and plaster began to fall from the ceiling. Houdinis were teleporting in concrete and the Spiders were holding them in place above Atlas.

"What the hell is this!" Atlas screamed as concrete filled his mouth.

The concrete kept coming, Atlas' own molten skin turned against him, hardening the concrete and plaster as quickly as it was poured on him. In no time he was completely covered and hardened like one of Sander's other dead statues. Sander clapped and took a step, teleporting onto Atlas' shoulders.

"Yes! What do you think Son of Ryan? We'll call it the_ Death of Rapture!" _Sander laughed.

His players, Michelle included, clapped from the floor and the ceiling. This was their triumph, not just Jack's or Sander's.

But suddenly, the concrete began to crack. Sander looked down at the living statue, apparently Atlas wasn't finished after all. Sander didn't seem afraid, more like disappointed. He kicked Atlas' head before teleporting in front of Jack. Sander's hands light on fire, Jack ran up to him.

"What's the plan?" Sander asked him.

"I don't have a plan. I thought you had a plan." Jack told him.

"My plan is breaking in front of us."

"…My plan was just to shoot the bastard until he stopped moving."

"I like the way you think, Little Moth."

Jack held up his shot gun.

"Power in numbers." Jack told him.

"Oh, if Andrew could see this. His son and his citizens taking down Atlas and Fontaine. He'd be so proud of you."

"Sander, you know I'm the one who killed him."

"Yeah, you're a brainwashed toddler in an adult's body owned by Fontaine. I figured it out."

Jack looked at him.

"I'm kidding, Tenebaum told me the whole story." Sander grinned.

Atlas's statue cracked all around, finally ice began to form around it. Icicles grew from the cracks and splintered them open, breaking apart the sculpture. Giant ice spikes burst out of Atlas' back and the concrete fell to the floor. Atlas roared with life.

"Shoot the bastard!" Sander Cohen commanded.

The Troupe obeyed, fireballs from the Houdinis erupted all round Atlas. He screamed and ice burst from his feet, stabbing any Splicer nearby. Blood covered ice melted underneath the firepower of the Houdinis. The Spiders leapt down from the floor, stabbing into Atlas' skin. They scraped against ice trying to fine his bloody and vulnerable flesh. He swiped them away but the dancers leapt between his arms, dancing on his shoulders with inhuman grace. Michelle dropped down from the ceiling, landing on his left shoulder. He tried to grab her but she swung beneath him, stabbing her hook into his neck. He screamed and finally swatted her to the floor. A Houdini Splicer grabbed her and teleported back to the safety of the ceiling.

"You think I'm alone in this? I got enough back up to watch over me!" Atlas screamed.

The security bots beeped to life appearing from the ceiling. The Spider Slicers fall to the floor.

"Sander!" Jack calls.

Sander understands, Jack is Andrew Ryan's son, the bots can see that. Sander uses telekinesis to grab a Spider's fallen hook. He opens his other arm and grabs Jack. They teleport again, appearing on the ceiling. Sander hooks himself in place as Jack jumps down, grabbing a security bot by its tail fin. It doesn't take much now to hack the thing, it already knows he is a Ryan, it just takes a well placed electricity bolt to make it see the light. Another Spider Slicer leaps from the ceiling beside Cohen, hooking another bot by its tail. The Spider guides it towards Atlas, leaping away just at it crashes into the bastard.

Jack lands on the floor. Another bot is taking out the Houdinis. He fires lightning bolts from his fingertips and it goes down. He starts to run, a Houdini grabs him and helps him the rest of the way, teleporting him right next to the fallen bot. A little lightning and it's another bot on their side.

Houdinis were leaping onto Atlas now, fire in their hands, they were melting away his armor of ice. Atlas screamed, again creating cold spikes out of the floor. Michelle screamed, she was impaled through the shoulder by one of those spikes. Sander saw her, and leapt down. Atlas was about to crush the two of them, when Jack through a fireball into his face. Sander grabbed Michelle and teleported away. He appeared in the far corner, putting her down.

"I'm sorry." She was saying. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm okay. I'm okay."

Sander didn't say anything. He was gone before he could say anything, appearing again before Atlas. His arms were on fire then, burning away his gloves and his suit, a constant stream of fire erupted from his hands, like a flamethrower, like a volcano. Atlas pushed through the fire, his armor melting as he did.

"You god damn has-been!" Atlas screamed.

Atlas' slammed his fist to the floor, as Sander disappeared in a cloud of red. His fire reappeared before he did right on top of Atlas' shoulders, burning Atlas' neck and head from behind. Atlas screamed, falling over. The Houdinis took their chance, fire balls came from their hands.

Jack couldn't believe it. They were winning.

Sander Cohen wasn't laughing, he wasn't joking. He was calm now, collected. This wasn't going to be art, it wasn't going to be beautiful. It wasn't going to be some comment on the life and death of Rapture or the demons man carries inside him. There was nothing to be taken from this. This had no message. This was going to be cold-blooded murder, plain and simple. This wasn't a performance. This was Sander Cohen killing something terrible.

Sander disappeared once more, his molecules separating and reassembling somewhere else. It was known teleports can be dangerous, one could potentially teleport into something. It was also known the teleports reassemble in pieces, meaning Sander Cohen was already mostly reassembled before anyone could see him. But Atlas saw him in the puddles, the puddles of his melted ice he saw Sander Cohen's footsteps.

He held out his arm and the red cloud formed around his fist. Sander Cohen reappeared, screaming.

"HAH!" Atlas laughed.

Atlas fist was now where Sander's lungs should have been. Ribs were torn and broken, abdomen muscles were spilling out of his skin. The stomach was pushed down and aside into the large intestines and his left kidney. Atlas pulled his fist out of the now hollowed out Sander Cohen, and blood spilled all over the floor.

"Sander!" Jack screamed.

Sander looked up, blood coming out of his lips and nose. He began to fall and he teleported far away, near Michelle. He flopped to the ground, a puddle of blood forming beneath him. Jack had to run to him.

Sander looked up at Michelle. He held out his hand to her and she took it. He looked so very tired, but he smiled at her and nodded.

She stood.

"Sander's down, you know what to do!" She screamed.

She leapt to the ceiling and danced between bullets and ice like the ballerina she was. The Troupe responded quickly, the Spiders fell from the ceiling, stabbing and dragging Atlas to the floor. The Houdinis were carrying the Spiders out of there and burning Atlas alive.

Jack grabbed Sander Cohen and held his head up. Blood poured out of the huge hole in his side like a river. Sander's burned and scared hands, no longer hidden by his lovely gloves revealed the battle scars of war. He held Jack's hand and looked at him.

"Keep them safe." Sander coughed out with blood.

"I will." Jack nodded.

"This is okay. This is fine." Sander told him. "This is a good ending. But this isn't my story is it? No, it's yours. It's always been yours. Your father built you a city at the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn't control it. He needed you to save it, we all needed you to save us."

The lungs are broken and bleeding, the ribs can't hold in the organs anymore. Blood pours and pours out of him. It's so difficult to talk.

"When you get to the surface, you tell them what happened to Sander Cohen. You tell them he died a god damn hero."

He grips Jack's hand to relieve the pain, but now he's shaking.

"Heh. You're Ryan's boy, I can see that now. Believe me, that's something to be proud of. Your father was a good man."

Jack nods.

"Now go. Fight for your father. Fight for this city. Reclaim it. After all, it's yours now, isn't it? This place is your birthright."

Jack nods and forces Sander's hands away.

"Fly, my Little Moth! Fly into the flame and kick its fucking ass!"

Sander Cohen died.

Atlas' armor was now melted away, the Splicers were burning at pure flesh now. But Atlas swept them all away and his skin began to grow back and burn in an all together different fire. Lightning bolts stretched away from his hands, stabbing into the hearts of Splicers. The Spiders danced in between the lightning bolts and the Houdinis teleported through them. But eventually, the lightning grew and stretched, touching each of them. They fell to the ground. The bots died.

Jack gripped a grenade in one hand, and his shot gun in the other. He stood tall between Sander Cohen's dead body and the behemoth of Atlas.

"I'll…I'll kill you." Atlas screamed between his teeth.

Electrical blood dripped to the floor. He was beaten. Tired. Dying.

Weren't they all?

Atlas shook his head. He needed ADAM. Jack could see it. Like a drug addict, he was shaking. He needed more. But there wasn't any more was there? It was all inside him, tearing him apart at the seams.

Jack rose his shot gun and fired.

Atlas screamed and ran towards him, lightning bursting with each step. Jack leapt out the way, fire coming out of one hand, ice out of the other, trying to freeze his ankles to the ground. Atlas shot lightning from his fingers and Jack absorbed the bolts into his own electrical flesh. He grew bugs out of his arm and freed them unto the world. They flew into Atlas' wounds, they dug into his bleeding stab wounds. The Splicers were getting back up, they were attacking again.

But Atlas ran up to Jack, grabbing him by the neck. Jack held up his grenade but Atlas merely crushed it in the palm of his hand. Atlas grinned, throwing Jack into the floor. The Splicers tried to stop him, the Houdinis teleported on top of him, the Spiders crawled, but he threw them all away as he splattered Jack's skull against the floor again before tossing him aside like a rag doll. Jack created a wind tunnel beneath him, softening his blow. But it wasn't enough, he fell and blood burst from his lips.

He looked up at Atlas and got to his feet.

"Go, Mr. Bubbles!"

Jack turned to see several of Tenebaum's girls crammed into the vents. They were watching him, but it took him a moment to realize they weren't talking to him.

The ground began to tremble.

Atlas noticed it too. Jack threw fire into his face, trying to get his attention again. Atlas only slapped him to the floor.

"I had you built! I sent you topside! I called you back, showed you what you was, what you was capable of! Even that life, you thought you had, that was something I dreamed up and then tattooed inside your head! Now if you don't call that family, I don't know what is!" Atlas screamed.

"Get him!" Sophia's voice called.

Then the sound of that terrible drill and that rumbling roar.

The Bouncer came out of nowhere, his drill impaling Atlas from behind. It roared over its own drill until that was all anyone could hear. Atlas pulled away and punched the Bouncer in the face. His portholes burst open, his mask dented. It fell beside Jack and Jack could clearly see, human eyes staring at him underneath that mask.

They were blue eyes. They were afraid.

The Bouncer stood, grabbing Jack as it did and putting him to his feet. It roared again as Atlas stood, bleeding and coughing. The Bouncer stood, his suit prepared for a brunt collision, and he ran into Atlas at full speed.

The girls cheered.

Atlas fell but grabbed the Bouncer's face grill, throwing him to the ground with him. Jack ran up to Atlas. He looked behind him at Sander's remaining army.

"Go!" Jack commanded and they obeyed.

The Spider Slicers leapt to Atlas arms and legs, stabbing him with their hooks, trying to keep him still. The Bouncer leapt on top of Atlas, keeping him weighted to the ground. Jack ran up to the Bouncer, getting out one of the Little Sister's needled. He looked up into the human eyes through the broken mask.

"Thanks, big guy." Jack nodded, and the Bouncer nodded back.

"NO! NO!" Atlas struggled against the Splicers.

Jack stabbed the needle into Atlas chest. Lightning burst from beneath, Atlas' last stand. But Jack was draining the ADAM right out of his heart.

"Let's go!" Sophia commanded.

The Little Sisters ran onto the floor from their hiding places, carrying with them their needles. They ran to beside the Splicers at Atlas's sides and stabbed him. They too were draining the ADAM.

He struggled, of course, but he grew weak. The lightning burst from beneath him but began to die down and fade. His skin grew dark and cold, he was bleeding everywhere.

"No…please…Jack…" Fontaine cried.

Fontaine couldn't fight it anymore. Jack looked to the Bouncer and nodded.

The Bouncer's drill started up and the Big Daddy lifted it over Atlas' face.

"No!"

The Bouncer was loading the girls into the bathyspheres. He moaned quietly to himself, sad to see them go. But they held his fingers and his hand. Sophia stood in the bathysphere, eye level with him. She kissed her hand and reached into his mask to touch his cheek. He held her hand and he loved her, he loved them all. But even he knew, he could not follow them where they were going.

Sander Cohen's army held his body gently in their hands. Michelle smiled at Jack.

"We will go back to the Fort. We will continue the performances. We will live." She told him.

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Jack asked one last time.

She shook her head and smiled.

"No. We couldn't do that. We're really quite insane." She said.

Jack could see them carrying away Sander's body.

"He'll be turned into a statue." She said. "Welcoming all to Fort Frolic. It's what he asked us to do."

"I'm sorry."

"He told us he'd be happy to die this way." She shrugged.

"Thank you. Thank all of you."

She nodded and hugged him.

"Good luck up there. If you ever feel lonely, you know where we'll be." She smiled before dancing off into the darkness, leaving behind bloody footprints behind her.

She laughed and Sander Cohen's Troupe of Many Talents was gone.

"Come on, Jack!" Sophia called.

Jack turned to see the girls and Tenebaum. Brigid held herself carefully, smiling at him. The Bouncer moaned and waved him over.

He felt his steps on the metal carpeted floor. His father's city, his broken dream.

He held Brigid's hand as they walked into the bathysphere. She was gentle with him, he kissed her forehead. Everything was going to be okay. They waved to the Bouncer, who waved back. The girls crawled over each other as the door shut, they peered out the window, touching the glass, waving Mr. Bubbles goodbye.

Then Jack took his family home into the sun.


End file.
